Stalking Ginevra (Morally Black Book 4)

I lie on my back, staring into the mirror above the mattress, every muscle in my body trembling with a cocktail of rage and something far more unsettling. My clit swells, and the pulse behind it pounds so hard its vibrations reverberate against my thighs.

When the door clicks shut, the sound breaks me out of my spell.

Benito has no right to make my body react to his hand around my throat. No right to make me so aroused. For a moment, I hoped he would throw me against the wall and consummate our marriage, but instead, he left me in this needy state.

My pussy clenches, and I grind my teeth, forcing back another surge of arousal. How dare he strip me of my dignity and walk away? How dare he talk like I’m his fucking property? How dare he offer me clothes as an incentive for being a good wife?

I clutch the edges of the robe tighter until my knuckles feel like they’re about to crack. The soft fabric only aggravates my heated skin.

Benito has no right to be so arrogant.

His audacity ignites a fire that burns through what’s left of my confusion. When did he become this cruel, controlling figure? I’m almost certain he got off on seeing me squirm. He doesn’t get to have the last word. I need to confront him again, demand answers, and claw back a semblance of control.

I push myself off the bed, land on my feet, and march across the suite to the door. Grabbing the handle, I yank it open with maximum force.

Fury propels my feet into the hallway, but the door to the suite swings shut. Its locking mechanism whirrs, freezing me in place. Breath catching, my throat tightens with panic. I whirl around, gaping at the locked door, realizing I’m trapped out in public with nothing but this robe.

The hallway stretches out to my left and right, a long, empty expanse that may as well be the desert. I glance toward the elevator, which closes shut.

“Benito?”

He can’t hear me. Shit.

Fury fades, replaced by the sensation of being exposed. Cold sweat prickles at the back of my neck, making me shiver. I need to find a phone.

The door opposite mine creaks open. That brute from earlier—the one who leered at me with the ice bucket, emerges, grinning like he’s just won a prize. He fills the doorway like a troll, his gaze sweeping up and down my body, lingering on the swell of my breasts.

“Need help, sweetheart?” he rumbles with a wink that makes my skin crawl.

Revulsion ripples down my spine and settles in my gut. I force up my chin, mustering every ounce of self confidence. “My husband is around the corner, getting ice.”

The tremor in my voice betrays the fear coiling in my gut, and his grin widens.

“You just got married?”

“To Mr. Benito Montesano. The casino’s new owner.”

“So I should leave you alone because you’re a mafia wife?” Chuckling, he swaggers forward, the door to his room propped open behind him like a portal to hell.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Should I run? That would only trigger his predator instincts and make him think I’m lying.

I take a step back, the soft carpet doing nothing to muffle the thudding of my heart. The brute continues advancing, his bulk filling the corridor and sucking up all the air. My breath quickens, each inhale sharp and shallow as my lungs squeeze with alarm. I can’t run, but I also can’t let him close that distance.

“What are you wearing under that robe,” he growls.

“Benito?” I say.

His gaze lifts toward the end of the corridor as though someone just rounded the corner. Just as I’m about to dart forward, he lunges.

I scream but a massive paw clamps over my mouth, muffling the sound. My elbow lands in his side, but he barely grunts. I kick at his shin with my bare foot, but a meaty arm wraps around my waist and lifts me off my feet.noveldrama

Panic crashes over my senses, drowning out all rational thought. My mind spins, scrambling for a way out, but all I can see is his leering grin as he drags me into his room.

The moment we cross the threshold, he throws me onto the bed with a force that knocks the breath from my chest. I gasp, trying to fill my burning lungs, but terror grips them tighter.

“Get away from me!” I scream at the advancing bastard.

The suite we’re in is dark, its windows obscured by blinds. The brute looms over me, his broad silhouette blocking out the light from the hallway.

“Put her down!” screams a shrill voice.

Carla, the room service woman, rushes inside with an empty bucket. Hope flickers in my chest, until the man whirls around and throws a punch toward her head.

“Wait your turn, bitch,” he roars.

Carla skitters backward, the bucket slipping from her fingers with a clang. She fumbles for her walkie-talkie with trembling fingers and holds it up like a shield. “I’ll call security!”

The brute’s fist connects with her jaw with a sickening thud. Carla spins across the suite, hits the wall, and crumples to the floor.

My jaw drops. What the hell am I doing still on the bed, waiting my fucking turn?

Something inside me snaps, pushing away the terror, replacing it with a rush of adrenaline. I lunge for the nearest object—a glass bottle of water—and clutch it so tight my knuckles ache. Heart pounding, I scramble off the bed and raise the weapon just as the man turns around.

Hunger gleams in his dark eyes, and he bares his teeth into a sadistic grin that makes my stomach lurch.

“Nice tits.” He advances on me with slow, deliberate steps, his gaze flicking down to the front of my gaping robe.

Desperation claws at my throat. I scream, but that only makes him lick his lips.

“Do you want the bottle first, or me?”

Before I can even react, he slams into my front, crushing me onto the mattress. Pain explodes across my ribs, and the air rushes from my lungs. As he pins me to the bed, I swing the bottle at his head, but he catches my wrist before the strike can land.

“I love it when they fight,” he growls, his hot breath making my skin crawl.

Terror surges through my veins, powering my limbs. I thrash beneath his bulk, but he’s too heavy, too strong, too determined to trap me to this bed. With my free hand, I claw at his face, but his other hand clamps down on my throat and cuts off my air.

“That’s it, baby.” He rocks back and forth, the movement making my stomach heave. “Lie back and enjoy the ride.”

I suck in a breath but it’s stuck in my crushed windpipe. I jerk my head to the side, trying to dislodge the hand gripping my throat, but his fingers only tighten. Stars dance at the edges of my vision, and my lungs burn with the need for oxygen.

If I can’t muster up a surge of strength, I’ll die.

Just as the world starts to fade, Carla’s voice breaks through the haze. With a cry, she throws herself at my attacker and clings to his back with her arms wrapped around his thick neck. She tries to choke him, but it’s like wrestling a beluga whale.

The man’s head jerks to the side. “What the fuck?”

Carla’s teeth clamp down on his ear. Roaring, the man lurches backward, leaving enough space for me to reach the fallen bottle.

It’s time to fight back.

Fingers tightening around its glass neck, I swing the bottle on his temple with all my strength just as Carla turns her head to avoid the impact. It lands with a satisfying crack, sending a jolt up my arms.

With a pained bellow, the brute reels back, his grip on my throat loosening just enough for me to gasp for air.

“You’re dead, both of you.” He rises off the mattress, his hand shooting out to grab Carla by the neck.

My heart lurches as he lifts her off the floor, her feet dangling, her face turning red as she struggles to breathe. Every instinct screams at me to do something, anything, but I’m paralyzed by the sight of Carla’s life slipping away.

The smaller woman’s eyes meet mine, her features twisting with a silent plea for help. I can’t continue being a victim. I can’t let her die risking her life to save mine.

My gaze snaps to the nightstand, where he dumped his jacket. Half-hidden in the fabric and shadows is a gun. Without thinking, I dart toward the weapon and extract it from its holster, my fingers closing around its grip. By the time I turn back, Carla hangs like a limp doll, her eyes rolling as she teeters on the edge of consciousness.

“Put her down!” I scream and point the pistol at his head.

The man turns to me and laughs, his eyes dancing. “You like gunplay, baby?” He tightens his grip around Carla’s throat and shakes her like a ragdoll. “When I’ve finished with this little bitch, that barrel is going up your pussy.”

His words slam into my gut with an explosion of revulsion, but I clench my teeth and snarl, “Let go of her, or I’ll shoot.”

Snickering, he shifts, holding Carla in front of his head and chest like a shield.

My stomach plummets. The room spins, and the walls close in as my heart races out of control. What the fuck am I going to do now?